If My People repost

             Today I unburied my original “If My People” poem, revealing its date: November 4, 2006.  George W. Bush was President.  Many Christians were enthusiastic to have him, but nonetheless making complaints, some petty like the marriage tax, while ignoring much greater inequalities.  They were crying out for the Ten Commandments to be posted in many public places and in schools.  Meanwhile, on a popular site for Christian prophesies, the creator and administrator of the site reported that he had been receiving many stories of “strange” dreams about the White House that “no one” could understand.  In one dream, Christians were coming to the White House, where their shoes were taken off and thrown out onto the White House Lawn.  In another, Christians were coming into the White House, at first welcomed, then brought into a back room where they were beaten up.  The administrator noted one more of specifics I can’t recall but also at the White House with Christians unwelcomed.  The administrator asked all of his followers to “pray for the President” and that many were concerned for his safety. 

How, I wondered, could “no one” understand dreams as clear as these?  “Get out of her, My people,” I thought, then, shortly after, wrote this poem.  I hadn’t yet started this blog, so it was later shared as one of my first posts, which you can read here, along with its comments.  After this repost of the poem, I offer some thoughts for today, including the hope of the phoenix.  From its own ashes it is born, a new creation, a finer one.

 

If My People
who are called by My Name
will humble themselves and pray
and seek My face
and turn from their wicked ways,
then I will hear from heaven,
will forgive their sin,
and will heal their land
 
But if My People
who are called by My Name proclaim,
“Our Kingdom is not of this world,”
yet they weep and wail
when their kingdom of the world
goes the way of the world
and, for this, they trust not in My Kingdom,
then My people have not heard My voice
 
But if My People
who are called by My Name cry out,
”Change their hearts and minds!”
and cry not, “Change my heart and mind!”
and pound their fist in prayer,
“Cleanse their heart, Oh Lord”
and not, “Cleanse my heart, Oh Lord,”
then My people have not heard My voice
 
And if My people
who are called by My Name say
“If the sinners stop killing babies,
if the men stop marrying men,
if the movie makers dawn modesty,
if Caesar cuts taxes,
if the schools discipline,
and if these people and those people ad nauseum,”
and, for this, if My People think
their marriages will be saved,
their children will follow Me,
and their land will be healed
because those I seek to save
have repented of their ways,
and been rescued by a political party
before I have saved them,
then My people have not heard My voice
 
If only My people
who are called by My Name
will loosen the bonds of wickedness
let the oppressed go free,
bring the homeless into their home,
clothe the naked,
and feed the hungry,
then I will hear from heaven
and will heal their land
 
But if My people
who are called by My Name say
“We are sons of David,
we are sons of Abraham,
we are children of great fathers,
so God is with us,”
and they honor Me with their lips
and claim Me in their hearts,
but they have set up their high places,
and turned My gift into a god
and cry for the right to pledge allegiance to their god,
then My people have not heard My voice
 
And if My people
who are called by My Name
render more unto Caesar
than the taxes and votes that are Caesar’s
and render less unto Me
than the humility and trust that is Mine,
and with Caesar commit adultery,
and if My shepherds preach from the pulpit a political party
for salvation to the nation,
and garner power for themselves
through their flock as a voting block
to bully those they claim will save the nation,
then My people have not heard My voice
 
If only My People
who are called by My Name
will seek and save the lost
not by Caesar,
but by My Power, Cross and Blood,
and show compassion to victims of calamity
and conservation to My Creation,
then I will hear from heaven
and will heal their land
 
But if My People
proclaim My Law
upon those I seek to save
and petition My Law become a shrine,
and if My people do not themselves follow My Law,
and if they weep, wail and whine
when those I seek to save
grumble against a shrine for My Law,
then My people have not heard My voice
 
And if My people
who are called by My Name cry
cry out in fear,
“Touch not the wine or the oil!”
and cry out in fear,
“We suffer the hundred dollar marriage penalty!”
and worry not only for their daily bread, but luxuries too,
and trust not in Me
or My promise to clothe them
more than the birds of the air
and the lilies of the field,
then My people have not heard My voice
 
If only My people
who are called by My Name
will humble themselves
and return to Me,
and trust in Me for all their needs,
and trust they can do all things through Me,
even grow in obedience to My Law they seek to enshrine,
then I will hear from heaven
and will heal their land
 
But if My people
who are called by My Name
see not with their eyes,
and hear not with their ears
the dreams I send them
warning them to flee adultery
and tell them in dreams
the deceiver has tricked them
and tell them in dreams,
“Get out of her, My People,”
and if they ask instead
whether Babble-on is okay
and receive only a blank stare,
and send to thousands an urgent message
to pray for him and not for themselves,
then My people have not heard My voice
 
And if My people
who are called by My name
forsake My prophets
who cry out, “Wake up!”
and behead My prophets,
who proclaim to them, My people,
“Repent! 
For the Kingdom of God is near!”
by keeping for themselves
the body of the prophesy,
and cutting off for themselves
the head of the prophesy,
and instead display the head
on a silver platter for those I seek to save,
then My people have not heard My voice
 
If only My people
who are called by My Name
will love Me with all their heart,
all their soul, mind and strength,
and love their neighbor as themselves,
then they will hear My voice,
and I will hear from heaven
and will heal their land

11/4/06

 

            We humans are given two main methods to heal our land.  The first is to soften our feet, learn to walk gently, and begin to nurture the gift of Creation.  This road is less traveled by because, although in the long term it is easier, it also calls for discipline and humility.  The second method is to grind our feet even deeper into the dirt and so hard the land is destroyed, then, after a time, it is reborn, fresh and new.  This second method is the common road, the one most traveled by.  At first, it looks easier – until the day of the destruction.  Then, it is the hard road.  The good news is that the hard road can build something even better.  It fully destroys, then fully rebuilds.

            We stand at the door of our downfall.  Unlike in 2006, when I first wrote the poem, or even in 2010, when I first posted it to this blog, I see the easier but disciplined and humble first road to be no longer possible.  Each of us individually, of course, can humble ourselves and turn from our own ways, as we should, for that is how real change happens.  For me, it means recognizing in humility my own petty worries over my retirement savings during this appropriate “Sell America” trade. In light of such severe injustices to a great many throughout the world, I must face how small this is of me.  I am also to show love and mercy to my fellow countrymen, no matter their sight or lack thereof, while persistently and peacefully calling for justice and freedom for all people. I go down with the ship too, so my own calling is to do so gently, without anger.

            One way I can do so is to hold onto the hope of the phoenix.  The downfall is coming, but so is the new creation, the new Earth, the one that will uplift all of humanity, where all of our resources will be shared one with another, where each creation on our planet is dignified and celebrated.  What comes between now and then will not be easy.  May we fall gently.

 

© by Karina.  All rights reserved.  Please use only with permission and/or a link to this blog post.

Angels Watching Over Us

             At a gathering I recently attended, the leader shared stories of angel encounters.  Only parenthetically on this blog (here) have I noted my own profound angel encounter, one I’ve intended for years to share the full story.  Since it was twenty years ago, it’s about time I do!  On a day when many are celebrating ghosts, goblins, and devils, why not also celebrate some angels?  Four to be exact, seen by my little children, 4 and 1 ½. 

            Just four hours after my release from the Emergency Room in June, 2005 my children saw these angels.  This was about a month into my 3 ½ month “Summer in the Twilight Zone,” with its mix of glories and terrors.  I’ve described some of this time in the same post referenced above (here) and some more detail in my series “Translation Overload”, especially in parts 2 and 3.  Briefly, the twilight zone commenced with memories of my toddler and preschool years to be later affirmed by my mother; then came visions, synchronicities, a splash of color like an aurora where it didn’t belong in Venezuela, and the launch of my whispers of mystery.  So too did the other side of its double-edged sword arrive: nightmares, vomiting, labor pains and horrors later confirmed by Hurricane Katrina, and this migraine so rare and so piercing it threw me into the ER. 

            We had travel plans on that day of the ER visit.  We were about to head west to Seattle to spend the night, along with my parents, at my uncle’s house.  The night after we were to be in Bellingham, on our side of the Canadian border, and then the next day we were to embark on our joint family vacation: the majestic Canadian train trip in sleeper cars from Vancouver, BC to Jasper, AL.  Since my parents lived in California and my dad’s brother lived near the Sea-Tac airport, Mom and Dad were flying up to Seattle that day.  My family was living two hours east, so we could drive.  In fact, we could drive two cars, then lend one to Mom and Dad for the trip north. 

            But now there was a wrench.  How was I to drive?  The migraine came on early in the morning.  Unaccustomed to such a condition, I had no medicine for it.  Just Tylenol, which was not working one bit.  My husband drove us to the ER, where I was admitted around 9 am, was treated, rested, began to feel better, given medicine to carry me through, and was discharged around noon. The doctor said to delay travel for at least 3-4 hours and then head out as long as I was feeling better. 

            By 4:00, I was feeling better, though nervous.  Americans who live in the eastern two-thirds of the country present breathless awe on their faces when they see our mountains out west.  We “Left Coasters,” as my mom’s brother likes to call us, sometimes take our mountains for granted, but they are truly majestic and if I ever consider living anywhere else, I shake my head with a quick No.  Who could leave these mountains?   But nothing glorious is free.  Mountains make for a daunting drive with their twists, turns, inclines and deep descents, alongside many trucks and cars driving too fast. 

            Thankfully, we would have daylight.  We had timed our Canadian adventure to coincide with the summer solstice, to arrive in the especially northern city of Jasper, AL, along at the solstice to enjoy daylight till 11 pm.  Still in central Washington, we, of course, would see dark sooner, but not before arriving in Seattle.  We would have daylight and my husband would lead, driving slowly.  I could do this.  Otherwise, my parents would need to rent a car, cross the border with it, and pay an exorbitant fee to take it into Canada.  They were paying for this vacation for all six of us, so I certainly wanted to lend them my car. 

Our children’s car seats were already set up in my car.  Sensing I would feel more at ease with their companionship, we chose to keep them with me.  We live in the valley, just five minutes from the highway and fifteen minutes from the first incline into the Cascade mountains.  We had barely merged onto the highway when I discovered just how true my intuition to keep the children with me would be. 

“Look, Mommy!  Four angels!” exclaimed my four year-old son in delight.  He pointed up excitedly about 12 feet above our car into what I saw as a beautiful clear blue sky.  “One above Daddy’s car and three are above our car!”  Then he pointed again to a place about a dozen feet above my husband’s car and then to the same place above our car.  As he spoke, his baby sister, only 20 months old, was giggling, clapping, pointing to the exact same spots, vigorously nodding, clapping again, bouncing up and down, giggling more, and nodding again in delighted agreement. 

            Angels escorting us?  I was stunned.  Could this be?  

I asked my son what they looked like, and he said, “They’re very tall!”  He peered more and tried to describe them.  He said they had purple skirts, yellow tops, and long hair, “yellow-orange, kinda’ like yours” (strawberry blond), but longer, “very long.”  Baby sister happily nodded, bounced up and down, and clapped again, in her toddler way of saying, “Yes!  Yes!  What he says!” 

            Through every tight turn, down every steep decline, by every truck we passed, in every wolf pack of vehicles around us and tailing us, I drove in calm awe.  Oh how I wished I could have seen the angels too.  But I was fully confident of their presence.  We made it safely to Seattle and then to Vancouver, and my migraine never returned.  

Throughout my Summer in the Twilight Zone, the angels were whispering to me – a new experience that has remained with me ever since.  Through my two little children, the angels confirmed to me they are real and they are truly watching over us. 

© 2025 by Karina.  Use only with permission and/or a link to this blog post.

Uniting our Seemingly Divided Parts

             How baffling that I had never heard of him, this one who was shot and is filling my feed with many in mourning, just as many pointing to his violent speech, and, thankfully, also as many saying, “love him or hate him, but no death of a young father is good.”

            Given his associations and mine, my ignorance of this person is mystifying.  He was wrapped in a movement that was not mine (religious conservatives), but tied into those of decades of my life: lively churches, which tend toward the right and college campuses, my place of belonging as a college instructor.

            Wired with a fundamental principle of the equal dignity of all beings, I am a natural progressive and for most of my life have advocated for the disenfranchised, minorities, immigrants, exploited workers, and those leaving closets to stand for their own identities.

The value of the dignity of all beings was so deeply wired into me that I thought everyone shared it.  But middle school taught me otherwise.  I was frequently mocked and bullied for reasons I could not understand by schoolmates I barely knew.  To mask that I had no one to eat with, I ate my lunch while walking through the campus and plotting methods of suicide. 

Then in 8^th grade US History, I learned for the first time about segregation, Jim Crow laws, and what led to the Civil Rights Movement.  I was horrified.  In light of their atrocities, my own bullies seemed mild.  After watching “I Have a Dream,” Martin Luther King became my hero and inspired me to stand for my own dignity and that of everyone else. 

         The following year, at age 15, I had a genuine conversion into Christianity at a church youth retreat a friend invited me to, where I was warmly welcomed and drawn to the Teacher-Savior who had over-turned the tables of the capitalists, put rich guys in their places, stood up for the disenfranchised, and called upon his followers into a character of gentleness and compassion (blessed are the humble, the gentle, the merciful, those who mourn, who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the peacemakers ~ Matt 5:3-10, summarized).  I also discovered this Teacher had inspired my own hero, Martin Luther King, and I eagerly prayed the prayer for him into my heart.

         For the next few years, I was among a few who were often invited to share my conversion story of suicidal to joyful.  Since my story seemed dull compared to the others, I thought my invitations must have come from my public speaking skills, as I never considered that most listening had not experienced a conversion like ours.

         During those early years, and especially in college, most of my Christian friends were also progressive.  It wasn’t until a decade later that I learned most American Christians are politically conservative.  Really?  The party of the rich?  I wasn’t sure what to make of that at first, but this was in the days before maga and when some were calling themselves “compassionate conservatives.”  I had my doubts, but at least their label gave hope that they were trying to hold the value system of the Teacher.

         But then in my 40s, the divide between the two parts of my life – academia and Christianity – boiled hot.  In 2019, I joined my 11^th short term Christian mission project, one similar to about half of the others, as it involved service and house-building in Mexico.  It was led by a wonderful Christian leader and attended by other warm-hearted teammates.  It was there that I let my heart break over these divided identities.  “I’m part of two groups and they both hate each other!” I cried.  I had heard the scorn from both sides: the sneering comments at church against college professors (and I was one) and the mocking comments of Christians at the college (and I was one).  All of this scorn pained me, and on that day in June, 2019, with a huddle of team-mates, I cried and cried loud and cried into their arms, and today, to them, I say, “Thank you, thank you.”  As I shared with them, I longed for my two groups to unite in brotherhood and affirm their shared foundation of uplifting human dignity.

          Little did I know then that a year later, the university administration’s treatment to me would be toxic and that I would witness the furtherance of a movement within the churches that, for me, was no longer about politics, but about what I see as the most fundamental principle of life: the full and equal dignity of all beings.  In 2021, I left the church, the university and even also began a trial marital separation.  While these were unrelated shifts, a much grander change was taking place within my soul.  That grueling, intense time was short, but did not feel at all short.  Changes this great collapsed me flat. 

         But then, they give my soul what it really needed: the chance to discover within myself the unity of my divided parts: the academic and the Christian, both intricately founded upon the dignity of all beings.  The same went for the other divided parts: the wife and mother and the mystic, two identities which are usually mutually exclusive.  The mystic is called into solitude and the wife and mother, obviously, is not.  Only after I permitted myself to let go did I come to discover that my Life Plan had included both, but each for its appointed season. 

         Back to my baffling question: how had I never heard of someone so influential to my own recent groups?  It is a mystery, but points to how much my life has changed.  Today, in refreshing peace lives the mystic, a part that had always been within, but who graciously stepped back for a season to let the maternal instinct flourish.  Though no longer physically at the university, the church or in my marriage, I cherish them all as a part of my united self.  I also know, at times alone and at times with friends, no building is needed to soak in the divine.

         We each hold seemingly divided parts within ourselves designed to unite.  This process may be painful and may take letting go.  Then comes healing, peace and unity.  And those seemingly divided parts within our country?  They also can unite.  This, too, may be painful and may take letting go.  Then it, too, will bring healing, peace, and unity.

© 2025 by Karina.  All rights reserved.  Please use only with permission and/or a link to this blog post.

Seen and Sighted

On Friday, the following whisper of mystery arrived.  I was about to meet with a friend who also receives whispers from the World Beyond.  Sometimes she blesses me with one designed just for me that is astonishingly specific and revealing.  To bless her in return, yesterday I prayed the Spirit would speak a message to me for her.  What I received, instead, was this more global message, personalized for us both, yet also for many others: 

            The veil between heaven and earth is disintegrating.  As it disintegrates, so too does the cover over everything, exposing everyone.  This terrifies many.  They are shrinking, as if they are hiding beneath a table to avoid their exposure.

            At this moment, I was given the image of a few adults, shrinking themselves to a child size of about six or seven, and like children, seeking out a table to hide beneath.

             A few, like you and your friend, are standing awed by this new cord between heaven and earth.  You, too, have been exposed.  But exposure is preferable to you than the cloud that had persisted, dimming your sight into the heavens.

             Seek after those who long for the Light, for that open gate to the heavens.  If you see fear in them for their own exposure, encourage them.  It is better to be exposed and see than to hide and stay blind. 

~ whisper, July 18, 2025

  

            Sometimes the whispers of mystery surprise me from the very start with some fresh, new idea that never would have entered my own mind.  Sometimes, they begin with something familiar, something they have previously revealed, then build on it.  That’s what they did this time with the very first line.  Everything after it was new to me.

             That “the veil between heaven and earth is disintegrating” has been very evident to many of us.  Not only are my whispers of mystery, especially since the pandemic, much more common, more profound, with lengthier discourses, and now often complemented with visions, so too are the messages from the heavens to the earth to a great many.  Many like my friend are amazed to be receiving messages, and these messages are becoming deeper in their profundity.  Yes, the veil between heaven and earth is disintegrating.

             The remainder of Friday’s message was new to me.  I had not conceived that not only is the veil between heaven and earth disintegrating, but the veil surrounding everything and everyone is also disintegrating.  We are, each of one of us, getting exposed in ways we had not previously been.  The whisper was saying that the veil between heaven and earth is simply one piece of a much greater whole.  The veil covering everything is evaporating.  That means, our own veils, our own covers -- those masks we put on to make ourselves appear other than what we really are – are also disintegrating.  No more hiding.

             That terrifies many, spoke the whisper.  But it doesn’t need to.  As my friend and I both know, letting ourselves be seen was healing, and then, after letting the parts of ourselves we wanted hidden to be exposed, we made new discoveries about ourselves that we liked, parts of ourselves that we now embrace.

             As I listened to the whisper and watched the adults shrinking themselves into child-size figures and then hiding themselves beneath a table, I noticed that no one was then paying them any attention.  Either their hiding places were working or they were seen, but no one, at least yet, cared.  Perhaps some of them were already exposed, but they thought they were still unseen.  I understood it was only a matter of time that their exposure would come and their accounting called upon.  But the whispers suggested something more: 

            If they voluntarily come out from under that table, permitting their exposure, or even exposing themselves, they’ll be blessed with a glimpse into the heavens.  Upon that glimpse, they may just begin their journey into Sight. 

            Although this whisper was new to both me and my friend, its truth resonated with us both.  Each of us had permitted our exposure prior to receiving whispers of mystery.  What struck us was the apparent cause and effect connection that our willingness to be exposed led to the onset of our whispers of mystery. 

            Nothing in this message is intended to suggest that we should just bare ourselves naked for the sake of proving our willingness to be exposed or to force a decline of the veil into the heavens.  That’s not the point.  It’s our willingness to be seen that initiates healing, new and affirming discoveries about ourselves, and, remarkably, our entrance beyond the veil into the heavens, a wonder of wonders.  Little do the terrified ones yet know that it is far, far better to be exposed and to see than to hide and stay blind. 

 

© 2025 by Karina Jacobson.  All rights reserved.  Please use only with permission and/or a link to this blog post.

The Laser Beam, Part 2

All things call for a single-minded focus,
a laser beam and a microscope,
and then all things are celebrated.

~ The Laser Beam whisper, October 3, 2024

 

            The LaserBeam message had already kept my attention for a few hours, quietly dropping hints in surprising spurts to life-long questions.  I call these the “Enigma”: Why, on a planet so abundant, fully capable of nourishing all, is there widespread poverty?  Unnecessary suffering?  And why has God allowed it?  

When I posed these questions to church leaders, they said humans were at fault and then created “in sin.”  Contradictory and unjust, is this not?  Not, they said in tones convinced and condescending, tricking me into thinking they know more than me.  My observations of the world and the teachings of the church both opposed my intuition, keeping me baffled. 

            The Laser Beam vision arrived unexpected on a day off, like droplets of rain, each followed by a pause of silence and time for reflection.  By this time at least many of my questions about God had been resolved through my own intimate connection with the divine, my whispers of mystery, my own research and finally simply trusting my own intuition.  Still, I battled over the other part of the Enigma, the widespread, unnecessary suffering, especially the propensity of many humans toward violence.   

The Laser Beam message began a reply.  Any who wish to see the full first part of this message can click  here for Part 1.  Otherwise, here is a synopsis, beginning with this whisper: 

There are objectives within the Cosmos
that can only be accomplished in the darkness.

            A pause. 

In the heavenly places of perfection, there is much that is unknown:
courage, perseverance, love in spite of pain, forgiveness, gratitude,
and the seeking and finding of beauty within a sea of ugliness.
Endurance through despair: perfection knows not that.

             Another pause. 

Only in physical places can single-minded focus be achieved.
In all other places, omniscience and connectedness exclude any capacity
to focus intently into a single direction and within a single, isolated being. 

            Then came the vision: a dark background like the night sky appeared with a man standing on a laser beam.  Then a few others formed into view, each on their own beam.  The beams were of various widths, some wide like a surf board, some narrow like a balance beam, and others everywhere in between.  One especially narrow one, like a tight rope, was the focus on the next few messages which told of the “single minded focus” of humans. 

            Along with a few more whispers came a quick flash of a parallel metaphor: a microscope.  We see tiny details, like a microscope.  From this, the whispers replied to my question about those who commit violence: 

The violence caused by the perpetrators comes as an effect of the laser beam.
When the single-minded person is distracted from the laser beam,
the single-minded person gets agitated, angry, and then becomes violent.
It is not that the person is made violent;
it is that the person is made single-minded,
and violence is the outcome. 

            What a refreshing contrast to the church teaching that humans were created “in sin”!  No, humans are like laser beams, and violence is an effect. 

            Finally, they surprised me with another whisper, the focus for this post: 

All things call for a single-minded focus,
a laser beam and a microscope,
and then all things are celebrated. 

             To celebrate all things.  Wow.  

The whispers continued: 

The purpose of a single-minded focus, an obsession,
is to celebrate the obsession.
When a being has cast a laser beam onto some creation, any creation,
then the entire Cosmos is invited to celebrate that creation. 

Remarkable.  I never learned that in church.  “The entire Cosmos is invited to celebrate that creation.”  

The whispers furthered explained, 

Only a being with a single-minded focus can do this,
and only an isolated physical being on a physical planet can have a single-minded focus.
Therefore, physical beings with single-minded obsessions
are needed for the Cosmos to celebrate all things. 

If in the Cosmos, omniscience and connectedness exclude “single-minded focus,” then surely the special celebration of any particular creation is also excluded.  Humans serve an especially grand purpose.  

While drafting this piece, I watched a video that included the mind-boggling discovery of the “observer effect” by quantum physicists from their double slit experiment.  They wished to understand the behavior of photons, but they never expected to discover what they did.  If unobserved, they ripple as waves.  In relation to the Laser Beam message, the photons behave like the Cosmos: harmonized and connected.  But when scientists set up their equipment to observe, study and measure them, they behave as particles.  In other words, they behave the way humans see and they transform into separate dots of light.  

Fifteen years ago, when I learned of this experiment, which has been repeated a great many times, always with the same outcome, I, like everyone, was astonished by it.  We, the humans, create the separation of waves into particles by our mere observation.  Now, fifteen years later, I had forgotten about that experiment, and yet, by divine synchronicity, I was led to a video that reminded me of it and the discovery of the “observer effect.”  The observer effect hints at this grand purpose of humans.  The Cosmos sees only the waves.  We humans, generally, see only the particles.  For the particles to be seen, humans are needed. 

Finally I was given a reason for human nastiness that I could embrace.  Humans are needed to observe in detail to assist the Cosmos in celebration, but this detailed focus can also lead to conflict.  In reply to my Enigma, conflict appears to have a purpose, an unintended effect of the grand purpose of humans: All things, all creatures, all plants, all creations are intended to be celebrated.   

Think of those biologists who spend their lives studying some small insect.  These biologists are wired to be fascinated with a tiny creature or the mysteries of its unique features in part to assist the Cosmos in celebrating a creature that might otherwise be ignored or unnoticed.  Scientists in fields from microbiology to astronomy and everything in between are captivated by the thrill of discovering something new: to be the first to discover a new particle or a new fish or a new dwarf planet.  This thrill, this burst of adrenaline, that we humans experience when we discover some new creation has a purpose in our grand Universe: to celebrate.  It can be about anything -- an invention, a political structure, a system of productivity, a country, a town, a religious order, a single theological concept, a relationship, a technology, or, for my dad, a mathematical formula. 

As a young girl, I watched my dad work out calculations on his yellow vertical notebook, then later on his laptop computer.  Why was he fixated on math problems?  I asked him one day and he said he was plotting formulas in his field of expertise: Data Compression.  That meant nothing to me at age twelve.  Little did I understand then that my dad’s math helped get not only him, but all of us, from that yellow vertical notebook to that laptop computer.  Others in his field have since brought us to videos on the Internet on our palm sized cell phones.  My dad’s fixation on math, along with his colleagues, birthed something amazing. 

My own “laser beam” focus had been on the portion of the human condition of suffering and conflict that I perceived to be unnecessary, especially of those so prone either to commit violence or to needlessly suffer, and often, both.  The laser beam message felt as if my head had turned toward an entirely different laser beam focus of human creation.  Humans, unlike what I had been taught, were not created “in sin.”  They were, instead, created to focus very small, some especially minute, in order for the Cosmos to honor, dignify, respect and to celebrate all things. 

Now that is something I can celebrate.

 

© by karina.  All rights reserved.  Please use only with permission and/or a link to this post.

p.s. I first learned of the double slit experiment and the observer effect from this great animated explanation: Dr Quantum Double Slit Experiment 

The Laser Beam, Part 1

Other Metaphors of Life

The Smorgasbord

Artificial Sweetener 

The Deep-end Diver and the Backstroke Swimmers 

The Bumblebee and the Hawk

The Laser Beam

There are objectives within the Cosmos
that can only be accomplished in the darkness
~ whisper, October 3, 2024, 9:11 am

            My own petty thoughts were once again interrupted.  I had the day off, had just pulled out my kindle, cozied in my recliner, and was about to read.  What did this mean?  Was it really from my whispers of mystery, those gentle, profound, and often witty voices from a mysterious and beautiful realm beyond me?

            The whisper was brief and ambiguous.  Having just settled into my recliner, I wished to cozy up, read, and drink my coffee.  I turned on my kindle, noticed the charge was low, retrieved my charger, plugged it in, and grumbled that the cord was too short to reach my recliner.  I’d have to move to a chair close to the charger.  Meanwhile, my mind kept repeating the whisper: There are objectives within the Cosmos that can only be accomplished in the darkness. I glanced at the clock.  9:11.  Did my whispers wish to confirm they really had sent the message?  I shuddered.  Was it foreboding?

As I picked up the tray with my coffee to move it to the chair, another whisper encouraged me to set it aside and return to the recliner.  We have a message for you.

This message was neither foreboding nor witty, yet stunning in its reply to some of my life-long questions.  Using the metaphor of a laser beam, my whispers shared a special role we humans play in the Universe and why it carries trauma, as our role and our problems are intricately intertwined through our laser beam consciousness. 

The Enigma

            Since the message was, in part, a reply to life-long questions of mine, I should first share this cluster of questions, which I call the Enigma: the human condition of widespread, significant, and unnecessary suffering and God’s role in in it.  Despite our abundant planet fully capable of nourishing everyone on Earth, widespread poverty and suffering, often at the cruelty of other humans, has gripped humanity throughout its history.  Why?  And why does “God” allow it?

As a toddler and preschooler, I lived across the street from a slum in São Paulo, Brazil.  A few years later, as I was just entering kindergarten, my family moved into a large three-story house in a wealthy neighborhood in San Jose, CA.  You can read about this childhood of paradox here and its influence into my battle with the Enigma.

Then, in school, I also learned history: slavery, war, and unthinkable atrocities like the Holocaust and others, then recent, in our own country that led to the Civil Rights Movement.

            In high school, I joined what I now call Churchianity because I was drawn to the sage I now call Yeshua.  His compassion, wisdom, teachings, miracles for the poor and humiliations to the powerful resonated with me.  Mine was a true conversion.  With delight, I welcomed this savior-sage into my heart and shifted from near-suicidal to vitality.  Many of my prayers were honored with miracles and added blessings I hadn't even requested.

            Wishing to learn as much as I could, I soaked in this savior-sage's teachings.  The church also taught about the divinity translated into English as “God,” who, I was told, created us humans “in sin” and inspired the Bible, which I was told was literally true.  I was also encouraged to read the Bible, which I made the mistake to do.  I read of God commanding genocide, of flooding the entire world except for one family and some animals, of condemning the first humans for appropriately wanting moral understanding, and of sending plagues and death to the Egyptian people because their king was stubborn, even though the same story told of God himself, multiple times, saying he would harden the king’s heart.  Wasn’t the king’s cruelty, then, on God?

This God also showed mercy, particularly to me and to my friends who prayed to him.  But in the Bible, I noticed mercy often shown to his favorites, but not always to their neighbors.  When his favorites got into fights with their neighbors, this God rarely taught them to get along with each other.  Sometimes, he even joined the fight and commanded his favorites to kill their neighbors. 

            Moreover, if this God created humans “in sin,” wasn’t the human cruelty and injustice I saw and learned about in history also on God?  Doesn’t the buck stop with him?  Churchianity claimed a “solution”: the torture, death, and resurrection of the one perfect person God created.  This was the very sage who had drawn me into Churchianity.  His torturous death was God’s solution?

            I was only a peon human, but I often told God I could come up with better solutions.  Why not create humans with warm hearts?  And minds that can see their way out of suffering?  And compassion to minimize the suffering of others? 

For many years, I tried to reconcile this God, but I could not.  Through a journey especially of my own intimacy with the divine, I became thankfully certain Churchianity’s God is not the true divine.  Today, I perceive the divine as a harmonious Spirit which we can access through our eternal self and our angels, whose character is more like Yeshua’s Father.  I scratch my head that neither I could trust my own insight nor Churchianity admit that Yeshua’s Father is not at all the same divinity as the literal figure translated into English in the Bible as "God."

Although I no longer blame Churchianity’s God, the Enigma of widespread, unnecessary suffering persistently nags at me.  The Laser Beam message surprised me with some answers. 

The Metaphors of Life

            The Laser Beam was the first of a series of messages in the fall of 2024 I call the Metaphors of Life.  Like a bridge from the type of messages I had previously received, it began familiar, with verbal “whispers of mystery.”  Then it added something new: a visual.  The following four messages, already posted here, were mostly visual, presented like videos.  Although the laser beam was the first, I saved it for last because it is the most involved and calls for more than a single post.

            The other four Metaphors of Life messages described what my angels whispered to be the mysterious “eternal self” within us, connected to what they call the “human self.”  These four placed their emphasis upon a description of the eternal self, while the Laser Beam emphasized the human self.  This is the self we know, the one we identify with, the one we call “myself.”  It is our physical self, attuned to the material realm and generally unaware of our eternal self. 

The Laser Beam

            I returned to my recliner and my angels repeated their attention-getting whisper and continued,

There are objectives within the Cosmos
that can only be accomplished in the darkness.
In the heavenly places of perfection, there is much that is unknown:
courage, perseverance, love in spite of pain, forgiveness, gratitude,
and the seeking and finding of beauty within a sea of ugliness. 
Endurance through despair: perfection knows not that.

            This whisper somewhat mirrored the clichés I had heard in Churchianity that an omniscient deity cannot know joy without sorrow, but it added beauty without ugliness, love in spite of pain, and qualities impossible for an omnipotent power like courage and perseverance.  Still, as the clichés had never worked for me, I was left unsatisfied.  My whispers continued,

Only in physical places can single-minded focus be achieved.
In all other places, omniscience and connectedness exclude any capacity
to focus intently into a single direction and within a single, isolated being.

I paused and was given a flash of another metaphor: a microscope.  I perceived we humans are designed with a purpose to look into minute details.  After some silence, they continued:

Those who enter the darkest of dark places are intimately involved in those objectives.
This is true of all involved: the victims, the perpetrators, and the eye-witnesses.
In the heavenly realms, they all work together on these objectives,
and they physically live them out together on Earth.

            Working together on objectives of darkness?  The victims and the perpetrators work together?  With eye-witnesses too?  Then physically live out the darkness?  Baffling.  Why?

            Neither my family’s western scientific way of thinking nor Churchianity had ever suggested that any of us, in spirit form, choose the life we enter.  By this time, however, I had read stories of people who had had near-death experiences and of those who had been hypnotized into their between life state in the spirit world.  These reports consistently reveal that we humans pre-plan the likelihood of some of the most important events in the lives we are about to live.  I hoped this to be true, but doubted it.  In my mind, no one could have chosen such horrors as the Holocaust.

The whispers continued . . .

We each have our own roles.
Some who head to the deepest, darkest places are among the brightest of the Universe,
and yet they head to the darkest places,
where they learn courage, endurance, strength, perseverance, hope,
and the ability to see light even in the darkest of dark.

            I thought of and shuddered over those imprisoned in hard labor camps.  "Among the brightest of the Universe"?  "Head to the darkest places"?  Likely not all, I thought, but some, such as Elie Wiesel, Anne Frank, and Viktor Frankl.  How could they, in spirit form, sign up for the potential of suffering so unthinkable?  I considered removing this part of the message, in case it could discourage any who have not cried out over the Enigma to do what I advocate: to stop the cruelty and show compassion.  Trusting my readers to assist victims, I kept it in.

Although these victims confound me, another group stymies me even more: the perpetrators.  What drives them?  What do they learn?

Single-minded focus.

             My angels began their reply and presented a vision of a person standing on a laser beam of bright white light.  The background was dark as if the person was floating in the night sky standing with one foot in front of another on this bright beam.  His eyes were looking ahead intently along the path of his laser beam.  He could see only to its narrow width, about as wide as a balance beam.

            Then a great many laser beams of various widths, some wide, some narrow, some in-between, all popped up before me, each with a single person standing on the beam.  Most could easily stand with both feet beside one another.  Many appeared to be surfing along the beam, some unstable.  Only a few were looking intently ahead, while most were drearily looking downward letting their beam take them wherever it wished.  Many appeared not to be following their beam, but instead floating away into a cloudy mist. 

Six months later, on Easter Sunday, I was surprised with another message about these many floating into the cloudy mist.  On this October day, however, they directed my attention to one on the narrowest beam, so narrow it was like a tight rope, with the figure upon it a murderous world leader.  My angels whispered,

Powerful perpetrators are like laser beams, destined toward a single, passionate focus,
unable to see anything beyond or around their single-minded laser focus.
They neither see, nor hear, nor think, nor feel anything apart from this single beam.
  But on this beam, they think and feel intensely.
This beam is their compass, their life, their path, and their moral code.
They comprehend nothing that is off the beam.

            Their “moral code”?  I shook my head.  My angels could not be serious. 

They continued,

Not all laser beams become perpetrators of violent crimes.
Many become great artists or specialized scientists
or obsessed with some particular thing or other.
But some, as you have observed, can also perpetrate very violent acts.

.           If single-minded focus is so necessary to learn – Really?  Why? – and if it can be learned by those who become great artists, then why are perpetrators of great violence needed?

            After a period of silence, my whispers resumed:

Without the perpetrators, courage lacks its full training.
Without the perpetrators, so do strength, endurance, perseverance, and forgiveness.
Without the perpetrators,
the ability to see light in even the darkest of places is left wanting.

            More silence.  Then –

The violence caused by the perpetrators comes as an effect of the laser beam.
When the single-minded person is distracted from the laser beam,
the single-minded person gets agitated, angry, and then becomes violent.
It is not that the person is made violent;
it is that the person is made single-minded,
and violence is the outcome.

            Violence is the outcome of the person’s obsession?  This was a new idea.  For so long, I had been brainwashed into the notion that we humans had been created “in sin.”  From this, I had unconsciously inferred that violent people were made violent.

            Here, my angels challenged that notion.  If they stood on especially narrow laser beams, they were made highly single-minded and violence was an outcome.  Hitler's obsession was Germany.  Did these not intend violence, but were obsessed with something else, even something good, and the result of their obsession was violence?

            Already, I had much to contemplate.  I wondered about other perpetrators who were not minutely focused on especially narrow beams, but these were to be described six months later.  Some violence, at least, might be an unintended effect.  My angels had still additional surprises.  Their whispers continued, beginning with this one:

All things call for a single-minded focus,
a laser beam and a microscope,
and then all things are celebrated.

            “Then all things are celebrated.”  This, too, was a fresh idea.  My angels had more to say.  To be continued . . .                                                                   

© 2025 by Karina Jacobson.  All rights reserved.  Use only with permission and/or a link to this blog post.

Other Metaphors of Life

The Smorgasbord

Artificial Sweetener

The Deep-end Diver and the Backstroke Swimmers

The Bumblebee and the Hawk